Snowbound
by FrigidNorthWinds
Summary: Grits of light snowfall trodden the mossy grounds of the canopy. Hollow winds blow, gales slash through vivid life, devoiding the forest of all natural existence. The dormant mountains intake an icy breath of air, akin to the snoring of a beast. As for two Task Force 141 soldiers on patrol, only time can tell what fate has in store of them. Warning! Male/male pairing abound!


**A/N:** Disclaimer: I do not by any means own these Modern Warfare characters. They belong respectively to Infinity Ward. This ficlet features the pairing Soap/Price, which I do not recommend reading if you do not take a liking to male/male content. Constructive criticism and other various methods to improve my writing is encouraged. Please do enjoy reading this literary piece.

As a side note, I will be resuming the progress of _Attainted Scales. _More information regarding the plot line can be located on my profile.

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><p>The howling winds resounded along the core of the atmosphere. Grits of hail and other miscellaneous particles dragged across the currents, scathing the infertile ground recklessly. The dark sky loomed over the blight of the internal frigid nightmare, the crescent of the moon itself encompassed by dark tinted clouds. Pillars of snow enveloped the undergrowth below, surrounded by horizons of powdery landforms. Mountains peaked up more than a record- breaking two thousand feet, towering as an almighty ancient relic of time. The landforms breathed out an icy intake, akin to the snoring of a dormant beast.<p>

Gales of the snowstorm barraged the crisp leaves of pine trees, delaminating the outer covering of the branches like a bear shredding through its prey. Over time, the natural forest would be nothing more than a reduced desert land void of evident life, only the hibernating critters would be left to emerge from their deep slumber to gaze upon the dead-still life surrounding them. The bitter cold could be no match for particular human explorers unprepared for the onslaught of intolerable, frozen temperatures. As for two unexpected men on patrol, a number of factors could go terribly wrong...

An insufferable shiver convulsed through the man's spine. His ghostly appearance was marked by extreme paleness of the skin; the onset of the settlement of a blue-like tinge color developing around his fingers, toes, and lips. A wave of disorientation and dizziness hit like a wave of heavy debris rushing along the current of a flood. It appeared has time itself gradually steadied to a plodding halt.

The other gentleman near his side hastily busied himself stockpiling logs of wood into the bonfire, in hopes of quelling his protege's decreasing temperature. Wiping a bead of sweat perspiring at his forehead; he averted his focus towards the rumpled figure before him. A harrowing low moan escaped from his quivering lips. He squeezed his eyes shut, fearing for the worst yet to mark a staggering arrival. Price unwaveringly watched as his companion withstand through the arduous ordeal, pursuing to remain a neutral stance to reassure the younger man. Still, a pang of sympathy struck him, an experience similar to witnessing a distressed and famished tiger lying helplessly at the depths of its cage.

Gingerly, he pressed his fingers into one of the Scotsman's shoulder blades, creating a mollifying stroke that alleviated the muscle tension manifested in the particular area. A long-drawn, assuaging sigh resonated from him, easing up the tightened balls of fists.

"Relax, Soap, The majority of hypothermia cases aren't usually fatal. In your case, you'll be completely fine. I know for a fact you're one tough bastard to crack." Price reassured, continuing the soothing motions.

His eyes slightly peered open, casting an aggrieved gaze over his commander, sensing the masked, concerned facial features. Despite prior encounters controverting the very jaws of death on several prior occasions; the man was reluctant on allowing such a trivial condition to further hinder his capabilities of persevering. "Not going to permit for this tiny nuisance to get to my damn senses..." he lowly muttered, it was then a shockwave of gelidness battered his body yet again, the convulsions never ceasing to halt its relentless attack on the racked Scotsman. Within each passing minute, his movements became nothing short of nearly unresponsive or sloppy.

A surpassed, feigned chuckle merely escaped from the befuddled captain, seeming to care less whether his condition posed a major threat to his health. Everything itself appeared to present as a practical illusion, he was affirmative the entire dilemma was likely another inferior nightmare, his PTSD symptoms expediently arising once more. It was the ideal feasible explanation for such a hectic scenario. A concerned expression crossed the older gentleman's features as he witnessed his comrade's deluded state beginning to unravel; as a consequential effect of the inexorable and glacial body temperature drop. It carried out that even the 'bravest of men' succumb to fatal wounds, or in this case to the bitter cold. The prowling monster of silence and solitude itself preyed on those vulnerable to collapsing at the heart of its domain. A weak soul would not stand a single chance in combating against the stages of the strangling illness.

The crepitating of the flames provided an unperturbed placidity between the two, a lackadaisical ambience looming in to envelope them.

The constant shivering made its progressive return, once again driving the Scotsman to the brink of insanity. His jangling teeth only impacted the older with a burst of commiseration. Adjudicating for the shenanigans to come to a halt, he unsheathed his coat and wrapped the fabric over his withered body, which immediately ignited a sense of gratifying calidity.

"Price..." the sickly man muttered. "You don't have to do this, you know." A discounting frown emerged on the creases of his lips, eliciting a disapproving gesture from the old man.

"Lad, you know better than anyone else you're in no position to be talking utter bollocks at the moment." he firmly countered, smoothing the curling edges of the fabric. A slight tint of red crossed his cheeks, taken aback from the abrupt comment. _So, that how it goes then, old man. You should bloody worry about yourself for a damn change. _The conceivable words nearly spilled from the edge of his lips, slightly aware that he was indeed incompetent of backing up a valid argument. The older gentleman eyed him considerably, heaving a heavy sigh afterwards and resuming his progress in adding more logs to the bonfire.

The unendurable shuddering marked its reiterated return, rattling Soap's quivered body to a pulp, a barely surpassed low moan resounding. A plunk echoed down the moist caverns, the pile of wooden logs hastily rolled across the mossy ground. In an instant, the enervated man felt a pair of hardened arms wrap around his torso. A flare of warmth kindled within the confines of his body heat. A series of goose bumps arose in response to the impulsive, soldered grasp.

"Wha- what the hell are you doing?" he finagled to stammer out, shell-shocked from the unexpected contact. His own body was brought closely to the base of his chest, the tint of his countenance growing by the second. Price's forearm tightened around his waist, bringing his palms in a fondling motion to create a sentiment of incalescence to the shriveled body. At first, the younger man was disinclined in being ensnared in his superior's clutches, if looks can beguile, the gesture would be publicly portrayed as an aromatic embrace- rather than a need to desperately form body heat.

His body rigidly congealed, bracing himself for what erratic behavior may come next. What he simply received was the comforting massaging hands his captain greeted him with. The contiguity was nothing short of commoving and luscious- guilelessly tranquilizing and imperturbable. He breathed a sharp intake of air before allowing his eyelids to slowly come to a close, allowing Price to gently lift up his stiff legs onto his lap. Soap merely wished for the bittersweet moment to last for an eternity, cherishing every second of the soft hands rubbing up and down on his back. He even noticed his body temperature seemed to significantly improve at the extra source of warmth supporting his frame. Yet, his senses remain disorientated at the plight of the whole situation. At the moment, it was quite difficult to signify whether Price was initiating some further form of apprenticeship level with him. A shocking shiver sprung up his spine, sending his teeth chattering as if he had just witnessed the sighting of a spirit.

The older of the two sighed once more, huddling closer to Soap and adjusting the brown leather jacket around his shoulders. He considered the possibility of loaning him his shirt soon enough, if the shivering continued to persist. Price calmly watched as Soap's mouth chattered like a wind-up toy, not letting up at all. From a standpoint perspective, he could easily identify the man was not only suffering from an illness but an onset of nervousness as well. He quietly shushed the younger man, coaxing him into a relaxing state; his hands now circling in a rubbing motion. Soap only nodded in response, attempting to refrain his teeth from clambering any longer by biting down his tongue.

"Pr-rice..." the Scotsman stuttered, accent quavering. "Do you suppose I can get out of this hell safely this time? An immersed hearty, chuckle emitted from Price, shaking his head at the jocosity of the inquired question.

"You truly are a bloody numpty to assume you would befall to some slight cold...after cheating death a countless number of times? You know that question better than anybody else, sweetheart." he cooed, running his fingers through his snow-trodden hair.

_Sweetheart? Was the man off his damn trolley to refer to me in such a 'lovely' manner? _Soap squinted his eyes in disbelief and attempted to readjust his blurred vision towards his mentor. A sense of slight uncomfortableness settled in, bewildered at his sweet, romantic gestures, but he could ultimately care less whether it mattered or not. His head was spinning madly out of control for Pete's sake. He had honestly never had been accustomed to constant contact, it had been ages since he was last in a formal relationship with anybody. But with a man and less expectantly his own captain? This began to sound similar to the high end of a wicked fairy tale. Still, he appreciated he was somewhat receiving attention from a trusted friend...or should he even dare refer him as that?

In spite of his ongoing confusion, Soap decided to make the next move by dragging his hands along his collarbone, before finding its way behind the base of his neck and entangling his arms behind there. They felt weak and spineless in contrast to Price's strong grip. He noticed the lethargic movement and countered by readjusting his arms around his back and bringing his head at the crane of his neck, releasing a content sigh at the tranquil sensation. In all of years of military combat, this particular moment seemed to be his long-awaiting vacation ticket, despite the frigid hell Soap was experiencing through.

"Do you even recall how this whole ordeal began?" Price muttered, brushing off sediments of dripping ice off of the man's head.

Soap lifted his head off of his chest, adorning a stern look. "Of course, I do, old man. Don't tell me this wee bit of the common cold is going to blast away my memory and leave me hanging with the memory of an old woman?" An uproar of merry laughter filled the dark voids of the cavern.

"Still I was a bloody moron at the time for sticking my nose where it shouldn't belong..."

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><p>It all occurred on the set of Christmas Eve during the late evening. A pair of sentient beings were on patrol to survey the area in search of any possible hostiles near the base. Of course, General Shepherd had the audacity to embark the two soldiers on an standard mission in a typical treacherous territory in the midst of a incensed snowstorm.<p>

"The bloody bastard the ol' whippersnapper had to come across as a hardass..." Soap grumbled to himself as he trudged through the towers of snowfall blockading their pathway. The eldest of the two merely rolled his eyes and pushed onwards through the flurry and sharp winds of the winter. The fury of the gales were exceedingly harsh, whipping slaps of grit and various particles at the men's faces. Not a trace of a single organism was to be found, the snowy desert void of all existent life- overly intimidating to be a winter wonderland.

"An exact replica of goddamn Pripyat I should say..." Price commented, surveying the evident details of the lack of animals and home establishments. A snort arose from Soap, who happened to carry most of the supply load.

"Why the shite do I have to be the squad's busboy? You ought to carry around this useless crap, not me." he muttered, heaving the bag into a more comfortable position. An unamused glare casted on Price's features, shrugging his shoulders afterwards and deciding to take part of the carry load burden off his shoulders.

"Well, my apologies, princess. We weren't all aware of your recent back problem." his sly voice remarked, his eyes scanning the exterior of the mountains up ahead. An appreciative smirk flashed on the younger's lips before happening to spot an unfamiliar figure in the vast distance.

"The hell is that over there?" He questioned, approaching the ice pond up ahead. Settling his boots on the ice sheet caused the ice itself to crack, the moment flashed before his eyes as he found his entire body submerged in the depths of freezing water.

"Soap!" Price shouted, dashing to the edge of the ice sheets and rapidly scanned for any signs of life in the icy shores. A flailing of arms appeared struggling to clamber onto the nearby edge of ice above. A set of hands yanked at the ends of his jacket, pulling in his body onto the safe grounds. His lungs heaved for breath as his face surfaced the air. His legs gave way as he collapsed on the ground, struggling to regain his normal breathing pattern. Coughing up droplets of water, his eyes searched for the man who had aided him. A hard hit to the back from him assisted in clearing up the coughing, that is until another trouble lumbered. The reckless man disregarded the fact his clothes were dripping wet, and simply ignored the mere matter and continued on with patrolling.

_That one simple mistake nearly cost him his entire life._

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><p>"I should have lectured you for not taking your damn clothes off afterwards. Still, the burden is on your shoulders, lad." Price mumbled, nuzzling his face into his soft skin, tracing a finger down to his clavicle. Laughter arose from Soap, merely shaking his head and resting it upon his hardened shoulder blades.<p>

"But that would only afflict my manliness! No pathetic winter is ever going to affect me!" he said with a smug, winking lovingly to him, who returned the sweet gesture as well. "Perhaps now that you have learned your lesson, you should receive a grand prize." he lowly muttered, his husky voice running a shiver down his back, a shiver of excitement rather than from the bitter cold.

"May I ask what are the exact conditions for this so called 'prize?'" Soap inquired, his now warm breath mirroring Price's. Their steady heartbeats slowly came to a gradual pace, imitating one another, creating an equilibrium balance.

"This...is your grand prize, my dear." With their lips intact, an explosive arousal enveloped the two, halting time to a still, as the looming sunset settled in- casting a luminescent shine over the lovebirds. Tis' a season to remember indeed...

"Merry Christmas, Soap," he whispered warmly, brushing his crisp lips between his, exploring his tongue and all different areas alike. Returning the brisk kiss with passion, their lips parted as they stared deeply into each other's azure eyes.

"Merry Christmas to you too, ya sappy old bugger." he mumbled, pressing a firm kiss to the side of his flushed cheeks.

"And a Happy New Year."

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><p>I do hope you all enjoyed. I insist on reviewing and leaving constructive criticism, please. Happy holidays!<p> 


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